October 14, 5-7 PM
featuring the work of Gloria Betlem and Ruth Geos (California 3-D artist)
The Davison Gallery at Roberts Wesleyan College
2301 Westside Dr (at Buffalo Rd)
Rochester, NY
Work in this show includes Finger Lake landscapes, avian species and the new work, merging science and art:
"THE FINGER LAKES: ABOVE AND BELOW"
featuring, topgraphical, personal and iconic imagery (the above part) and the geology of the shale beds, as related to hydrofrcking (the below part)
Show continues Oct 12 - Nov 11: M-F 11 AM - 5 PM, Sat 1 - 4 PM
http://web.mac.com/globeing/iWeb/Gloria%20Betlem/EXHIBITIONS.html
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
In memory of our ABG Wood Poet Friend, Ralph G Henderberg
After hearing the very sad news of our dear friend passing,
I felt moved to send my recent photos in his loving memory.
Our deepest condolences to Anne and the family at this very sad time.
Love,
David & Cindy Boyer
I felt moved to send my recent photos in his loving memory.
Our deepest condolences to Anne and the family at this very sad time.
Love,
David & Cindy Boyer
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Noirette #3: "Slammed South of the Border," installments 10 and 11
[10 of 11] Lucy’s Rambler was not at Idlewild’s international arrivals. Hammer wanted his Studebaker back like a rodeo bull wants out of a pen. He threw himself into a cab. His ankle still throbbed. She had done him no favors. The driver had a tattoo on his neck. The cab careened on to the Long Island Motor Parkway. Hammer pulled out the envelope from his coat & gingerly slid the stiletto blade to pry open the flap. The driver eyed him in the rearview mirror.
[#11 of ? ] The black iron gates in the Hamptons were tall; the driveway was long before it became a tight circle like a noose. The door was open. The body behind the living room sofa would be easier to explain to the D.A. than the empty envelope to Johnny Rio. Hammer poured a cognac at the bar. Rio’s boys would be there soon. The cab was gone; Melinda, too. They were two stiffs with nowhere to go. The surf pounded the rocks to sand. There would be some swimming. And no pie.
~ Fin
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
[#11 of ? ] The black iron gates in the Hamptons were tall; the driveway was long before it became a tight circle like a noose. The door was open. The body behind the living room sofa would be easier to explain to the D.A. than the empty envelope to Johnny Rio. Hammer poured a cognac at the bar. Rio’s boys would be there soon. The cab was gone; Melinda, too. They were two stiffs with nowhere to go. The surf pounded the rocks to sand. There would be some swimming. And no pie.
~ Fin
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Noirette #3: "Slammed South of the Border," installments 9 and 10 of 11
[9 of 11 ] Havana was hot like a drum skin in Club Tropicana on a Saturday night. He ran up the stairs of the pensione. His breath heaved & sweat ran from his brow. Even his hands felt wet. On the fourth landing, he looked out the balcony. Across the street below, the one-legged man stood under the lamp post & smoked. He had a peg leg below the knee & tapped the stump. He paused, resumed tapping, paused & tapped. Hammer’s hand slipped off the door knob as it turned.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
[10 of 11] Lucy’s Rambler was not at Idlewild’s international arrivals. Hammer wanted his Studebaker back like a rodeo bull wants out of a pen. He threw himself into a cab. His ankle still throbbed. She had done him no favors. The driver had a tattoo on his neck. The cab careened on to the Long Island Motor Parkway. Hammer pulled out the envelope from his coat & gingerly slid the stiletto blade to pry open the flap. The driver eyed him in the rearview mirror.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Announcement, September 2011: Critical Mass 2011 Finalists
I’m very pleased to announce that the Series: Immersed in Living Water has been moved forward into the final round of judging for this year’s Critical Mass award, part of the always wonderful Photolucida world.
“Critical Mass is a program about exposure and community. The idea is simple—photographers (from anywhere) submit a 10 image portfolio. This work is then pre-screened by a committee of approximately 20 great jurors. From those votes, the 200 top Finalists are determined. These 200 Finalists and their work go on to a jury of approximately 200 of the world’s best curators, editors, and other professionals who have agreed to view and vote on the Finalists’ work. Using these votes, at least one photographer is chosen to receive a book award and once the monograph is published, everyone who enters and juries will receive a copy of the book(s).”
- excerpt from the Photolucida website.
Jacob Copyright 2011 Wendy Sacks
www.wendysacksphotography.com
sacksw@me.com
Mobile 585.309.6999
Rochester, New York
“Critical Mass is a program about exposure and community. The idea is simple—photographers (from anywhere) submit a 10 image portfolio. This work is then pre-screened by a committee of approximately 20 great jurors. From those votes, the 200 top Finalists are determined. These 200 Finalists and their work go on to a jury of approximately 200 of the world’s best curators, editors, and other professionals who have agreed to view and vote on the Finalists’ work. Using these votes, at least one photographer is chosen to receive a book award and once the monograph is published, everyone who enters and juries will receive a copy of the book(s).”
- excerpt from the Photolucida website.
Jacob Copyright 2011 Wendy Sacks
www.wendysacksphotography.com
sacksw@me.com
Mobile 585.309.6999
Rochester, New York
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Noirette #3: "Slammed South of the Border," installments 8 and 9
[8 of ] Emma did not wait for Mercedes to bring tea. She burst the front door open & grabbed the headline of the afternoon paper with her eyes. Her fingers fumbled frantically to turn the telephone dial in the foyer. She heard his voice on the line. "Artie. Artie," she gasped like a goose being fed for foie gras. "We’ve got to ... Did you see the paper?" The shadow came through the doorway like a leopard. The telephone line snapped from the wall. The receiver clattered on the floor.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
[9 of ] Havana was hot like a drum skin in Club Tropicana on a Saturday night. He ran up the stairs of the pensione. His breath heaved & sweat ran from his brow. Even his hands felt wet. On the fourth landing, he looked out the balcony. Across the street below, the one-legged man stood under the lamp post & smoked. He had a peg leg below the knee & tapped the stump. He paused, resumed tapping, paused & tapped. Hammer’s hand slipped off the door knob as it turned.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
[9 of ] Havana was hot like a drum skin in Club Tropicana on a Saturday night. He ran up the stairs of the pensione. His breath heaved & sweat ran from his brow. Even his hands felt wet. On the fourth landing, he looked out the balcony. Across the street below, the one-legged man stood under the lamp post & smoked. He had a peg leg below the knee & tapped the stump. He paused, resumed tapping, paused & tapped. Hammer’s hand slipped off the door knob as it turned.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
Noirette #3: "Slammed South of the Border," installments 7 and 8
[7 of ] The trawler chugged south along the coast. In a day he would be past Puerto Escondido. By now the federales would find one of their own bent over, sticking out from under a car hood, a stuck stiff by the side of the road. Hammer did not care. He could make port in Guatemala in two days. From there to Havana, then home with the envelope & pay day.
He thought of the way she walked in heels. Waves collided & swished against the hull. The two deck hands eyed him with suspicion.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
[8 of ] Emma did not wait for Mercedes to bring tea. She burst the front door open & grabbed the headline of the afternoon paper with her eyes. Her fingers fumbled frantically to turn the telephone dial in the foyer. She heard his voice on the line. "Artie. Artie," she gasped like a goose being fed for foie gras. "We’ve got to ... Did you see the paper?" The shadow came through the doorway like a leopard. The telephone line snapped from the wall. The receiver clattered on the floor.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
He thought of the way she walked in heels. Waves collided & swished against the hull. The two deck hands eyed him with suspicion.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
[8 of ] Emma did not wait for Mercedes to bring tea. She burst the front door open & grabbed the headline of the afternoon paper with her eyes. Her fingers fumbled frantically to turn the telephone dial in the foyer. She heard his voice on the line. "Artie. Artie," she gasped like a goose being fed for foie gras. "We’ve got to ... Did you see the paper?" The shadow came through the doorway like a leopard. The telephone line snapped from the wall. The receiver clattered on the floor.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
“After Photography” Presentation at R.I.T.
Fred Ritchin
“After Photography” Thursday, November 3, 2011 at 8:00PM
Webb Auditorium (James E. Booth Memorial Building 7A)
How has photography (and other media) been transformed by the digital? What are new ways of thinking about photography beyond what was possible with analog media? How can these new possibilities be useful to artists and documentarians? What is the future for the professional in a world with sixty billion photographs on Facebook? What are the new problems that the digital poses, such as issues of credibility and a glut of imagery? Are we entering a post-photographic era? If so, what does it mean for the impact and usefulness of the photographic image in society, and for democracy?
Biography:
Fred Ritchin is professor of Photography & Imaging at New York University's Tisch School of the Arts. He is author of After Photography, published in 2008 by W. W. Norton and translated into French, Korean and Spanish, with a Chinese version on the way. His first book on the impact of the digital, In Our Own Image: The Coming Revolution in Photography, was published in 1990. Ritchin has been picture editor of The New York Times Magazine, executive editor of Camera Arts magazine, and founded the Photojournalism and Documentary Photography educational program at the International Center of Photography. Along with Carole Naggar, in 1999 he co-founded PixelPress, an organization committed to collaborating with humanitarian organizations on media projects as well as publishing online experiments in photography and related media. The website he created with photographer Gilles Peress, "Bosnia: Uncertain Paths to Peace," was nominated by the New York Times for a Pulitzer Prize in public service in 1997. Ritchin lectures frequently on the challenges of new media around he world.
More info: http://cwgp.org
Noirette #3: "Slammed South of the Border," installments 5 and 6
[# 5] Acapulco was hot. There was a corrida. He liked the drama, the blood, the bull’s or the matador’s. He bought a sombra seat. After dark, he went back to the cantina for the envelope. At the far end, he saw a woman. She was chewing gum & drinking beer, with three empty bottles in front of her. She said her name was Ynez. Behind Hammer a deep voice introduced himself as Demonio Azul, the Blue Demon. A meaty hand slapped Hammer down. The click of switchblade followed.
[6 of ] If getting the taxi from the Acapulco hospital to the airport meant anything, making customs at Idlewild would be a breeze. Adios to the cliff diving boys. His piece was buried in the suitcase on board the DC3. The envelope was in his pants pocket. He ordered whiskey at the airport bar, but took a gin double. No matter that the blue coats had impounded the Studebaker. Lucy would talk to Mulrooney in the detective squad. A federale came to the bar. "You are Senor Hammer, si?"
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
[6 of ] If getting the taxi from the Acapulco hospital to the airport meant anything, making customs at Idlewild would be a breeze. Adios to the cliff diving boys. His piece was buried in the suitcase on board the DC3. The envelope was in his pants pocket. He ordered whiskey at the airport bar, but took a gin double. No matter that the blue coats had impounded the Studebaker. Lucy would talk to Mulrooney in the detective squad. A federale came to the bar. "You are Senor Hammer, si?"
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
Rochester Moments September 7 - October 2, 2011
Image City Photography Gallery
Rochester Moments is a wonderful exhibit of beautifully done photographs of Rochester and vicinity by Sheridan Vincent, a gallery partner. His images are not only aesthetically exciting, but are technically fascinating using different print media and a variety of sizes - from standard size to impressive, large panoramas.
Artists' Reception
September 9, Friday, 5 - 8:30 pm
Gallery Hours
Wednesday - Saturday 11-7, Sunday 12-4
There is NO admission fee at Image City
For more information:
phone 585.271.2540
email Info@ImageCityPhotographyGallery.com
website www.ImageCityPhotographyGallery.com
722 University Avenue, Rochester, NY 14607
in the heart of ARTWalk
in the Neighborhood of the Arts
Rochester Moments is a wonderful exhibit of beautifully done photographs of Rochester and vicinity by Sheridan Vincent, a gallery partner. His images are not only aesthetically exciting, but are technically fascinating using different print media and a variety of sizes - from standard size to impressive, large panoramas.
Artists' Reception
September 9, Friday, 5 - 8:30 pm
Gallery Hours
Wednesday - Saturday 11-7, Sunday 12-4
There is NO admission fee at Image City
For more information:
phone 585.271.2540
email Info@ImageCityPhotographyGallery.com
website www.ImageCityPhotographyGallery.com
722 University Avenue, Rochester, NY 14607
in the heart of ARTWalk
in the Neighborhood of the Arts
Saturday, September 3, 2011
"Slammed South of the Border," Mike Hammer, Noirette #3, installments 1 & 2 (of 11 ...)
"Slammed South of the Border," Mike Hammer, Noirette #3, installments 1 & 2 (of 11 ...)
It was a wet night. A drizzle fell through the warm air like a Florida night in spring. Mike Hammer motored with his window down. He was reminded of Melinda, their night on the beach, soaked to the rhythm of the waves in the moist breeze. Pulling into the all-night diner, he got out. His hand caressed the hard leather holster holding his .38. Pie tonight. Just pie.
[Part 1 of 11]
He fumbled, but found no change for a tip, none for the toll later. Heading up the Bronx River Parkway at two a.m., the headlights of Hammer’s Studebaker were off. He pulled the Golden Hawk fast around the tight exit turn, flashed through the stop sign & wheeled on to Central Avenue. He was sure the Bronx boys were no longer behind him; he had lost them. After a couple of traffic lights, he turned on the headlights. The piercing police siren suddenly got closer.
[Part 2 of 11, maybe, or ... ]
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
It was a wet night. A drizzle fell through the warm air like a Florida night in spring. Mike Hammer motored with his window down. He was reminded of Melinda, their night on the beach, soaked to the rhythm of the waves in the moist breeze. Pulling into the all-night diner, he got out. His hand caressed the hard leather holster holding his .38. Pie tonight. Just pie.
[Part 1 of 11]
He fumbled, but found no change for a tip, none for the toll later. Heading up the Bronx River Parkway at two a.m., the headlights of Hammer’s Studebaker were off. He pulled the Golden Hawk fast around the tight exit turn, flashed through the stop sign & wheeled on to Central Avenue. He was sure the Bronx boys were no longer behind him; he had lost them. After a couple of traffic lights, he turned on the headlights. The piercing police siren suddenly got closer.
[Part 2 of 11, maybe, or ... ]
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
"Slammed South of the Border,"Noirette #3, installments 3 & 4 (of 11 ...)
[3 of 6?] Lucy made his bail. She was reliable, the way a man in a pinch & wanting to give one needs. Leaving was on his mind now, fast like the uptown express. She might miss him for a couple of days, might even hurt. But he had to get lost before the clues flew with the boys in blue. Taking the red-eye, he’d be in Acapulco by morning. Benny would be there with the teletype & some discrete friends. Maybe even Joe’s gal, Myrna. What a squeeze . . . as his hand tightened on the door knob.
[4 of 11? ] He lurched out of Anita’s cantina on to the dark sidewalk, and past its bright neon window sign. A wino approached. They did an awkward sidewalk dance, two tight stiffs trying to dodge each other, but the wino fell against him as they passed. Home was a long walk just a couple of blocks away.
In the morning, the phone rang. He fell out of bed like a torn hem. He heard Slim Bob’s voice, & dropped the phone. Staggering to his coat, he felt inside the pockets. The envelope was gone.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
[4 of 11? ] He lurched out of Anita’s cantina on to the dark sidewalk, and past its bright neon window sign. A wino approached. They did an awkward sidewalk dance, two tight stiffs trying to dodge each other, but the wino fell against him as they passed. Home was a long walk just a couple of blocks away.
In the morning, the phone rang. He fell out of bed like a torn hem. He heard Slim Bob’s voice, & dropped the phone. Staggering to his coat, he felt inside the pockets. The envelope was gone.
~ series by Jere Fletcher, (c) 2011
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